Page 67 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
CHAPTER 27
In response,Emma slid her hands up to his jaw, letting her fingertips drag through his beard, and then paused, relishing the moment. Grant tilted her face up, and she smiled, then leaned in, seeking his lips with her own.
He let her kiss him. A soft exploration, a little clumsy and shy, yet hungry.
I have missed you, too,Emma wanted to say as he deepened the kiss.I have wanted to feel your touch, too. I?—
They broke apart, and a shiver ran down her spine.
When he made to kiss her again, she put a finger on his lips and murmured, “What are we doing?”
“Sharin’ this night,” Grant said and kissed her again.
This time, he wrapped his arms around her, tight and snug. Emma wound her arms around his neck, and any lingering resistance vanished. All she wanted was more—more of his heat, more of his touch, and more of his kisses.
When he kissed down her neck, she gasped. “Oh yes, Grant.”
“Hm, I like it when ye sound so sweet and breathless,Sassenach,” Grant purred. His hands trailed down her back and rested on her rump, before squeezing it lightly. “But ye never said aye.”
“Hm?” Emma lifted her head to meet his dancing green eyes, though his expression was mock-somber—even as he squeezed her rump again, sending a bolt of heat to her core.
“May I kiss ye?” he asked, almost against her lips. “And a bit more?”
Emma slid her hands into his hair and tugged on it. She pulled the tartan tie off and slipped it into her corset, while Grant shook his hair free and grinned at her.
“What do you have in mind?” she asked in a coy voice that she almost did not recognize.
He shook his head. “Can ye nae just answer a man’s question? Obstinate minx.”
“Demanding laird,” Emma retorted.
“Ye have nay idea,” Grant said and kissed her hard again.
Their kisses became wilder, Grant’s hands roaming over her back and hips, while she let her fingers trace the edges of his shoulders and strong arms. Finally, they broke apart, gasping for air, and they both smiled. He spun her around, her skirt billowing, and she shrieked with glee.
All around them, the night had grown even more beautiful. It smoldered overhead with bright stars. A crescent moon dipped low over the loch, as though contemplating a drink. Fireflies flitted over the water and through the trees, while the soft breeze played its own melody in the grass.
Grant smiled at her when she looked back at him. “I’ve never shown anyone else this spot, ye ken. Verra few people ken about it, since we’re near the castle and huntin’ in these woods is forbidden.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Emma said.
As her eyes roamed over his kilt and crisp white shirt, she found that she was no longer thinking of the lovely glen around them, but only him.
“Will you show me more?”
Heat and desire flared in Grant’s eyes, but his expression was soft. “Are ye sure?”
“Yes,” Emma said with a nod of her head. “In this spot, away from the world, you aremine, Laird Ronson.” She paused as he pulled his shirt over his heart. “And I am yours.”
She held out her hand, and he took it as he stepped forward. Then, he tugged her toward the waterfall, where the shelf of rock arced into the earth. Vines climbed down next to the water, damp white flowers shaking in the mist. But the way the rock curved left a bare stretch of stone.
Something about it felt almost private—sacred. Emma gazed up at Grant as he pressed her back against the rock, next to the flowers and the water. Mist played over her skin and gemmed her eyelids as he gazed down at her.
“Here, I am yers,” he said in his soft, husky voice before he kissed her again.
However, he stepped back too soon, and Emma frowned as the Laird of Clan Ronson got down on his knees.
“What—what are you doing?” she gasped. “You do not kneel to me, Grant.”
